The King of Sidon
by Kizzykat
Summary: Alexander asks Hephaestion to find a new king for Sidon


**The King of Sidon by Kizzykat**

Alexander was lying on his bed, half-asleep with his eyes closed, one arm raised behind his head. Hephaestion was lying against his side, his head against Alexander's ribs, one hand resting on Alexander's midriff, rising and falling with Alexander's breathing.

Hephaestion moved his head and placed a kiss on the soft skin beneath Alexander's armpit, inhaling the scent of Alexander's skin and the faint trace of sweat.

"Xander," he said quietly.

"Mm?" Alexander murmured.

Hephaestion traced a finger down the golden brown hair of Alexander's armpit, feeling the roughness and the heat of Alexander's skin.

"That tickles," Alexander said sleepily.

"Xander, I need to ask a favour."

Alexander opened his eyes quickly and held his breath as he looked at Hephaestion, as though a bird he had been trying to tame had finally alighted on his hand.

Hephaestion held his eyes with clear resolution. "Xander, I need you to let me go for a while."

"Go? Go where?"

"Not necessarily go anywhere. I need to know whether I can survive without you."

"Of course you can."

"I need to know whether I can exist outside your shadow."

"You are not in my shadow. You are my shadow."

"If I'm ever to be anything more than your shadow, though, if I'm ever to be any use to you as anything other than an echo, I need you to let me go."

"But if you're not with me all the time, you might turn away from me."

"You know I won't. But if I'm with you all the time, you will tire of me. I will have nothing new to offer."

"Are you tired of me?"

"No. Never. But you have trained me for long enough. I need to use what you've taught me."

"You are the King's Bodyguard. Is that not good enough for you?"

"It is an honourable position, Alexander, and an enviable one. But I am capable of much more, and you know I am."

Alexander did not reply, his chest rising and falling with his rapid breathing.

"You have kept me close, Alexander, because you have wanted me near you. You have wanted a friend close by your side during these difficult years, and I have been happy to be there and to be your friend. Your best, your closest friend, which I always will be. But you don't need me as much now. You can let me go."

"I need you."

"You don't. You've proven yourself. You don't need me all the time. I need you to let me go."

Alexander was struggling to keep his lips under control. "I am thinking of taking Barsine as my mistress."

Hephaestion opened his mouth in silence, momentarily stunned. "Good," he said, recovering his breath. "That's good. Because if you send me off on a mission, you will have someone while I'm away."

"You should have someone. Especially if you go away."

"I don't want anyone."

"You should have someone. Just in case."

"So should you. And Barsine has been very useful in translating for the Persian ladies, and advising you on protocol. She's an intelligent woman, and educated, and you could do a lot worse than become intimate with her."

"Stop it, Hephaestion. Stop it." Alexander scrambled off the bed and stalked to the chair over which his robe was laid. He picked it up, thrust his arms into it, and wrapped it around himself, tying the belt with a jerk.

Without looking at Hephaestion, he moved to his table, picked up a stylus with one hand, opened the lid of the ink pot with the other, and pulled a piece of papyrus towards him.

"What position do you want?" he asked, the stylus poised.

"What?"

"You want a promotion. Will King of Sidon do?"

"No!" Hephaestion clambered off the bed. "I don't want that, Alexander! You'll leave me behind."

"We'll be back this way. Once we've taken Egypt."

Hephaestion didn't answer, he just stood there, at a loss.

"Go find me a new King of Sidon, then," Alexander said, throwing the stylus down.

Silently, Hephaestion turned away and picked up his clothes, his boots and his sword.

"Is there someone else?" Alexander asked, his voice heavy.

"Don't be daft." Hephaestion leant against a side table, folding his arms and pressing his clothes in front of himself.

"I'm sorry I've disappointed you."

"You haven't, Alexander. But I'm not going to beg your forgiveness like some contrite child just because I asked for what I wanted."

"I'm not asking you to. I have given you a task, kindly go and do it."

Hephaestion pushed off from the table, making it rock as he marched towards the door.

"Hephaestion! Don't you dare storm out of here!"

Hephaestion halted and slowly turned around. "You just told me to go."

"Don't go angry."

"I'm not angry, Alexander, and I don't want you to feel hurt. I know I've done it badly, but please try to understand what I'm saying."

"I do. I just hadn't expected it. Are we not to sleep together again?"

"It might be difficult if you send me somewhere."

"Then was last night a final farewell?"

"No," Hephaestion said in a small voice. "But I want people to stop looking at me as your boy."

"Who has said something?"

"No one."

There was silence for a moment.

"Where do you want me to send you?" Alexander asked.

"I don't know. Somewhere where the decisions are unquestionably mine, where no one will give you the credit instead of me."

"It will need to be in an area that does not impinge on Parmenion's authority or I will have to answer to him."

"The sea."

"Sidon's ships are with the Persian fleet."

"They still have half a dozen ships here, and we can build more."

"Very well. Overhaul the ships we do have, and get the shipyards busy. We will likely need all the ships we can muster if Tyre refuses to submit."

"Thank you. Perhaps, once the Sidon crews hear the city is in your hands, they will desert from the Persians."

"Find a way to contact them."

"I will. Then I can use the ships to ferry supplies down the coast as we move south. Sidon will be our supply base."

"Don't you go fighting any sea battles on me."

"I won't. I'm not a sea captain and I don't know how to command battleships."

They stood and looked at each other, a touch warily, but honestly.

"I will see you later then."

"Yes."

* * *

Hephaestion bowed slightly and left. It was a cold morning and he quickly donned tunic, mantle and boots. Slipping his sword belt over his head, he went outside, needing a walk and fresh air to settle his thoughts. He walked down from the citadel on the landward side, away from the sea and the damp mist which was rolling inland.

He had been restless for several weeks now, ever since Issus. They had come down from the mountains to the coastal cities of Phoenicia, defeated the Great King of the Persian Empire and a whole, vast new world had opened up before them, Alexander's for the taking. And he had stood at Alexander's side, elated, and excited at what the future held for them.

Yet difficulties had arisen. Alexander and Parmenion had had a long, heated discussion about their next step. Parmenion had felt they had gone far enough. They had chased the Persians out of Asia Minor, they would never again attack Greece. They should return and consolidate their hold on the territories they had conquered.

Alexander's reply had been that the battle of Issus had only deferred the inevitable. Once the Great King had regrouped his forces, he would come after them. They should maintain the initiative, finish the job, and take control of the whole coast. It was theirs for the taking.

Alexander had won the day of course. It helped that the city of Sidon had opened its gates to them and that Parmenion had easily collected the Great King's treasure from Damascus. That had appeased the old war-monger immeasurably. Yet Hephaestion knew that part of the reason Parmenion had dared to oppose Alexander was himself. He was part of the package that Parmenion and the older commanders saw when they looked at Alexander – an unseasoned boy, keeping boyish company, full of ambitious hopes and dreams, who thought everything was easy, everything was there for the taking, nothing was impossible. He needed to prove himself as much as Alexander, and he had been fretting to be free to do it. Being Alexander's Bodyguard did not take up all day, every day.

As he walked, he found himself beside an archway which led into a large garden, virtually a park. The gates were wide open, there was no one to bar his entrance, and he wandered in. Beaten pathways of whitened sand brought up from the beach deadened his footfalls as he walked between raised flowerbeds. The flat tops of the walls containing the flowerbeds gave somewhere to sit and enjoy the scent of the flowers in summer, but now they were, for the most part, neatly pruned brown and deadened stumps awaiting the arrival of spring.

Yet even among the dead leaves there were green shoots, harbingers of spring. The thin, waxen leaves of lilies beaded with moisture from the sea mist were already rising above the small, sharp white stones spread beneath them to keep the slugs off. Neatly clipped evergreen bushes were interspersed with the flowerbeds, and small dark cypresses, planted in carven and painted stone tubs to restrict their growth, enlivened the winter dullness. In the centre of the garden was a long rectangular pool, the water dark and still. There were stone seats and statues beside the pool, the statues painted and gilded in the Greek manner and looking ready to move and converse. Hephaestion had seen one or two Persian gardens in the cities of Ionian Greece but nothing as elaborate, as well-tended, as lived-in, as this.

He walked further, to an arbour of wooden posts entwined with small-leaved, dark green foliage. Sprinkled among the leaves were small, star-like scented white flowers. One of the stems had come loose and he raised it to secure it against the wood, bending his head to smell the delicate scent of the flowers.

"Greetings to you," said a man's voice.

Hephaestion whirled about to face the man, his hand instinctively going to the sword hilt tucked beneath his left arm. He faced a bearded Sidonian in a thick green robe wrapped around him against the chill. He was holding some pieces of twine.

"I did not mean to startle you," the man said. He spoke Greek – accented but intelligible.

"I am intruding," Hephaestion said. "I will leave."

"There is no need," the man said. "I left the gates open so that any who wish may enjoy the garden. That was always the way here in the old days, before the Persians chose our king." He raised the twine in his hand and indicated the greenery behind Hephaestion. "I was just going to tie up that stem. Perhaps you would hold it for me."

Hephaestion moved out of his way and held the stem, watching as the man set about his work. He had a full beard which spread onto his chest and brown eyes as round and dark as sloes. He was a handsome man in his mid thirties and though there was an air of quiet authority about him, his hands were roughened and grimed like a workman's and his clothes were worn and stained.

"I have never spoken to a Macedonian before," he said, glancing at Hephaestion. "I practise my Greek on the merchants and mercenary soldiers that I meet, but we've never had any Macedonians here before."

"Your Greek is very good. Where did you learn it?"

"I was taught it as a child." Suddenly the man smiled, his teeth showing in his beard. "Half the people in Sidon were expecting to find that the Macedonians had tails like demons. I'm relieved to find that you are quite human."

"Some of our soldiers are very demons," Hephaestion said with a small smile. "That's what makes us different from the Greeks. We're much tougher, and wilder. And we have Alexander."

"Yes, Alexander. What sort of man is he?"

"He is the kindest, most god-fearing man, extremely generous and loyal to all his friends."

"You love him?"

"I do. He is my friend."

"Tell me," the man said. "Is it true that he has horns?"

Hephaestion smiled broadly. "No. He does not."

"Then why does he wear them?"

"They are the symbol of our god, Zeus, the father of the gods. Alexander is descended from a son of Zeus, Heracles, who performed great labours in the service of the gods."

"I think," the man said as he stood up on one of the benches in the arbour to tie the stem higher up, "you will not persuade many in Sidon that those horns do not hide real horns. Alexander is a fearsome creature."

Hephaestion smiled. "He is. He has a simple philosophy: stand in my way and I will flatten you; push me, and I will push you back twice as hard; stand at my side, however, and I will shelter you from the wind and rain, I will make the sun always sun upon your face, I will give you glory, and I will be your friend until death."

The man gazed down at Hephaestion for a long moment, his hands raised to the greenery above his head. "Your Alexander sounds a remarkable man to inspire such love and loyalty."

"He is."

"I should like very much to come close enough to speak a word or two with him, but I do not expect he would talk to a humble gardener," he said, stepping down from the bench.

Hephaestion smiled again. "Alexander is not proud. He will talk to anyone. I will try to bring him here."

"What would I say to him?"

"Tell him about your work – he is interested in botany. Tell him about your life. He is interested in people and their stories. And he will enjoy your garden."

The man's face changed. He moved past Hephaestion to pick up his ball of twine and shears. "No," he said. "No, you had better not bring him."

"Why not?"

"He will think I have coerced you."

"How?"

The man faced Hephaestion squarely. "I was not amongst those who came to ask Alexander to chose a new king for us. By rights, I should have been." Hephaestion waited patiently, and the man drew a deep breath before continuing. "When our city rebelled against the Persians twelve years ago, I was not here. I had gone on a sea voyage to Carthage, but I was shipwrecked and by the time I made it home, it was all over: The rebellion had been crushed, the king was dead, my father executed, and I had not been here to fight and die for my city. My father was the king's cousin, and I should have carried on the rebellion and died a hero as he did, but I laid low, and I kept myself alive, and will die a shameful death instead."

"Why did you not carry on the rebellion?"

The man had begun to turn away, gathering his workman's bag of tools, but he rounded on Hephaestion passionately. "What good would more bloodshed have done? The Persians would have razed the city, enslaved the people, and put strangers on our land! There was no way we could have won!"

"What is your name?"

"Abdalonymos. Why?"

"I will lay your name before Alexander as a candidate for the kingship."

"Do not! I do not wish to be king! You have awoken passion in me, young man, passion and ambition which I had thought was dead. They are bad attributes for a king. I am content with my wife and my children about my hearth. I do not need to be a king. I have my kingdom here in my garden and in my home."

Hephaestion regarded him with a small smile. "Alexander would like to talk to you all the same. Shall I bring him?"

"Perhaps."

"You could tell him how you would have defeated the Persians."

Abdalonymos looked at Hephaestion slowly. "I have dreamt for years of how to defeat the Persians."

"Good. Then I will bring Alexander to hear your ideas." With a smile he turned to leave, realising that the mist had turned to rain some time ago and that he had grown cold with standing still. He turned around and said, "Alexander only promotes on merit."

"So I cannot buy the kingship with my flowers?"

"No, but with your ideas you can."

What is your name?"

"Hephaestion."

"I thought it might be."

With a smile, Hephaestion ducked his head and hurried away through the rain.

* * *

"I have found him!" he said, bounding into Alexander's room. Then he had to stop for his mantle had caught on the door handle.

As he turned to disentangle himself, Alexander hurried across the room to him, his heart soaring like a bird. He had not expected Hephaestion to return to him so quickly, and not in such evident excitement.

"I have found him," Hephaestion repeated. He stood before Alexander, his hair in rats' tails from the rain, his grey woollen mantle beaded with raindrops, and his skin as chill as marble from the cold. His eyes were shining though and his cheeks flushed with excitement as he smiled at Alexander.

"That was quick," Alexander said, grinning back at him. His words sounded inadequate but his heart was singing. He felt an extraordinary desire to utter sweet words of love, or to begin singing, or dancing, but there were servants present and he didn't want to embarrass Hephaestion with his sentimentality.

He caught hold of him however, unable to quite resist the impulse to touch his vitality. "Come to the fire and get warm," he said through his grin, drawing him towards the fire. "Get this wet mantle off before you catch your death. Here, put mine on."

Alexander emerged from his white mantle of soft wool and dropped it over Hephaestion's head and shoulders.

"No. You'll get cold," Hephaestion said as he felt the warmth of Alexander's body settle around him from the mantle. He could smell the incense and faint tang of blood on the warm wool from the morning sacrifice Alexander had made.

"I'm fine," Alexander said. "I don't expect you've had any breakfast yet. Come sit with me and tell me about your man."

With a wide grin, Hephaestion sat close against Alexander on the cushioned settle beside the fire. "He's a gardener."

"A gardener?"

"Yes, a gardener may be a king in his own way. His garden is his kingdom and it is well tended and cared for."

"That doesn't necessarily mean he will be able to tend a kingdom."

"I know. But he was once a prince."

Alexander smiled. "I knew you would make a logical choice."

"Will you come to the garden and see his work?"

"I don't need to, I trust your judgement. But you should look at other candidates too, or the worthies of Sidon will not be satisfied."

"I will. But I've already made my mind up."

"You always were a better judge of a man's character than me. Here, have some eggs before they get cold."

Hephaestion smiled at Alexander and tucked into the scrambled eggs with him. After a few moments, he leant close to Alexander and whispered in his ear, "I'm famous."

Alexander turned his head to grin with delight at him. "Yes?"

"He knew who I was," Hephaestion whispered.

"Of course he did. You're the most important man in my army."

Hephaestion ignored him, knowing Alexander was flattering him, but his cheeks still went pink with pleasure. To disguise it, he moved the white mantle to cover Alexander's bare knees and legs showing beneath his tunic so that he could share the warmth of the wool. Yet slowly he went cold as it dawned on him why Abdalonymos had known who he was: because the royal Persian ladies had mistaken him for Alexander at Issus. He felt hollow.

"What? What is it?" Alexander asked softly at his stillness. He laid his hand lightly on Hephaestion's shoulder.

Hephaestion felt a moment's distress, anger and rebellion that he was defined purely in terms of Alexander. He inhaled deeply, aware of the scent of the warm wool of Alexander's mantle he was wearing, and sat back.

"Ever since," he said, "the Persian ladies mistook you for me, I have felt a fraud. I have felt unworthy of my place by your side, because I owe it purely to our friendship. I do not owe it to any merit or achievements of my own, but to you."

"No, you don't," Alexander interrupted. "You would have made your mark, with or without me."

"Would I?" Hephaestion met Alexander's eye. "I need to prove myself, Alexander, which is why I asked you to let me go. But even that is by your favour." He sat forward again. "I know I'm not a very good soldier. I know I'll never be a great general. I'm too..." He hesitated, groping for the right word.

"You think too much," Alexander rescued him gently. "A soldier needs to think with his gut in the heat of battle. You think with your heart and your head. You have too much heart, my love."

Hephaestion stared silently at Alexander, his lips pressed on words he couldn't formulate.

Alexander picked up his hand and gently placed his lips against Hephaestion's fingers. "You are what gives my army heart," he said quietly. "Without men like you my army would be a soulless, brutal animal that would kill without pity instead of showing mercy and compassion." His lips lifted in a half-smile. "Besides, I wouldn't love you as I do if you were a ruthless bastard like me."

"You're not ruthless," Hephaestion was surprised into declaring. "Except maybe when you're angry or when it has to do with being king. But underneath, you're as soft as butter."

Alexander's face reddened and his eyes became glassy as he struggled to control the emotions congesting his heart. Suddenly he flung his arm around Hephaestion's neck, his other arm going round Hephaestion's ribs to draw him close in a crushing embrace.

"If you ever lost faith in me," he said against Hephaestion's neck, "I would not be able to carry on. I would doubt everything I did if I did not have you to measure it against."

"I will always be here," Hephaestion replied softly. "Provided you don't crush my ribs first."

Sheepishly, Alexander let him go. He cleared his throat with a grin and smoothed his tunic over his thighs as he collected himself. "Tell me where this garden is and I'll go and inspect it."

"Here, you'll need your mantle."

"No, I'll wear yours," Alexander said, jumping up eagerly. "I'll go unannounced so he doesn't know who I am. Hurry up and put that mantle back on: you've got a fleet to knock into shape. If you're in charge, you need to wear white so everyone can find you easily. Being conspicuous in a crowd is one of the first lessons I learnt about being a prince."

With a smile, Hephaestion allowed Alexander to lead him from the room, listening to him as he dispensed words of wisdom all the way.


End file.
